


penance

by freakedelic



Series: NonconWhumpKinktober 2020 [5]
Category: DCU (Comics), Teen Titans (Animated Series)
Genre: Bondage, Boot Worship, Collars, Crying, Degradation, Kinktober 2020, Light Choking, M/M, Noncontober 2020, Past Rape/Non-con, Whumptober 2020
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-05
Updated: 2020-10-05
Packaged: 2021-03-08 03:48:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 492
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26649301
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/freakedelic/pseuds/freakedelic
Summary: Slade’s voice booms from high above, like a vengeful god who cannot be placated. “If you care about your friends, you have a stupid way of showing it.”
Relationships: Dick Grayson/Slade Wilson
Series: NonconWhumpKinktober 2020 [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1917016
Comments: 10
Kudos: 53





	penance

**Author's Note:**

> noncontober day 5: bondage, whumptober day 5: failed escape, kinktober day 5: boot worship

“Please.” Robin shudders bodily, bent over on his knees so his forehead almost touches the cold floor. He doesn’t dare move. Doesn’t dare look up into Slade’s face, forcing every muscle to stay stock still. Tears make his eyesight fuzzy, slipping off his lashes to the floor. “ _Please_.”

Slade’s boots fall hard against the floor. Robin can see them move just in front of him. He flinches, expected them to lash out and hit his face, but they only stay stock still. Slade’s voice booms from high above, like a vengeful god who cannot be placated. “If you care about your friends, you have a stupid way of showing it.” Robin shivers on the ground. He’d tried to save them. Trying to get to the trigger, to Slade’s control panel—that had been the way to keep them safe. The only way, forever.

He had failed, and put them in even more danger.

Robin chokes back a desperate sob with little success. If they die it will be blood on his hands. It will be the end of the people he cares most about in the world, caused directly by his actions.

“Convince me,” Slade says coolly, “that you are sorry.”

Robin breathes in shortly, blinking tears out of his eyes, nose almost touching the floor. He tries to get his mind to work, to think of something—anything. Pride has been beaten out of him. Dignity has been raped out of him. He lurches forward, the rope that ties his collar to his bound hands choking him as his knees bruise. Robin’s face is between Slade’s boots.

He barely considers before leaning down, still wobbly, to press chapped lips against Slade’s boot. It takes like blood, and dirt, and something that must be polish. It tastes even worse than his cock, pubic hair and all, but Robin doesn’t let himself fight it. “I’m sorry, Master,” he pleads. “I was wrong, I’m sorry.” His collar aches. It will bruise his neck, tiny stars flickering in front of his eyes as he leans down again. This time he presses the flat of his tongue against the tip, against the laces. It leaves strings of saliva drooling from his mouth but he dips his head again, and again, smearing it until it gleams. “It won’t happen again. I’m sorry. I won’t do it again, I promise.” He tries to push back a sob, tasting his own tears. “Please punish me. Not them. Punish me. Please.”

Slade lets out a low, satisfied snort. It makes every bit of Robin scream, every inch of him _burn_. He doesn’t think that he could take the look on the man’s face if he looked up. But it means that even if all he can taste are his tears, his friends are not quite as in danger as they were only minutes ago.

“Don’t worry,” Slade says, voice full of dark promise. “You’ll be punished, kid. You’ll be punished.”


End file.
